


A Song of Masks

by And_My_Axe16



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Masks, Mercy Killing, Multi, Other, PTSD, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, The Spring Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_My_Axe16/pseuds/And_My_Axe16
Summary: Sirius Nyx was dead, and yet here she stands on her own two feet before a killing field. Her hands are bloody, caked in mud and gore up to her elbows.The cauldron is called a blessing; it's the maker of worlds created from the hands of a woman and spilling into the world, creating magic in their lands. But all it had ever done to her was bring her pain, bring her back to a world that had forgotten she had existed. A world that had forgotten to care. A world that had forced her into the role of a villain after making a foolish bargain to help protect or save her family. She will not risk them more than they have already risked themselves, even if they will never know of her existence again.But no matter how devastating the cost, no matter how much it will hurt her in the end, she will see it through, even if it kills her.Sirius will see her choices through to the end.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nessian, Tamlin (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), idk
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. The Awakening

Immortality came at a steep price for those who wish it. If you were not born into it, there was a very slim chance of ever achieving it. 

The price of another life, however, is steeper.

It’s made of fire and ice and water and darkness. It’s the feeling of breaking the surface of a still lake, right before all the potential energy is released and all that power comes pouring out, creating ripples in the world.

Sirius didn’t know it was happening until she was being spat out onto the ground before a small audience of people she had forgotten existed. And in the panic of being made again, she threw out what power she did have into that bottomless existence and  _ pulled _ it back into herself. It stitched her back together, screaming at her for taking a piece of it, but it was too late to give it back now. That dark, bottomless  _ thing _ was now a part of her for whatever spare eternity the Mother decided to give her.

For the longest time, it was just darkness. Not darkness so much as it was a swift tide, letting her decide which way to go. In one direction, she could follow her mother into the easy forgiveness of the sea, letting it take her to a land that did not have pain or sorrow. A place of rest.

And the other, harder path, where she could sit and wait and wait longer for those she cared about. A halfway point. A way where she could greet her family half-way should they decide to join her too early in their lives.

The only bad part about her plan was that she had to sit and watch the world go by without her. It wasn’t her death that saddened her most, it was the way others reacted that did. To have to watch as her family, her brother most of all, struggle and fight and survive. 

She could only watch.

Sirius had enough sense to pull herself away from the cauldron as it wept out the remaining water it harbored her in. Enough sense to pull away from the power she stole from, the power that she could now feel in her veins along with whatever powers she had been given before death had swept her away with quick knives and sorrowful glances. It was almost too much. Too much power to bear for such a body, even herself, but she would have to manage if she wanted to survive. That much she did want.

“She survived,” she heard a deeper, baritone voice say from around her. The room felt like it was spinning, making idle circles above her head. Sirius put a hand over herself, naked as the day she was born, and up to her head to try and get it to stop. Slow itself down, at the very least.

Her body felt like it was on fire.

“Just barely,” another voice, male also, said. “It would have been easier had you had a soul like mine, my liege.”

A deep chuckle and footsteps echoing off the smooth marble floors. “Perhaps. But now we know something too. The cauldron does not necessarily need a soul to be reborn. Tell me, girl, can you speak?”

Her?

Sirius peeked her head up from the mess of her dark, ebony hair. Her eyes scanned the room, locking eyes with the fae in front of her. His eyes seeped into hers, glaring at her as if trying to see what look she might be giving him. Given his esteemed, well-tailored clothes, she knew who he was. The golden, wicked crown, only confirmed it. “The King of Hybern,” she whispered to herself.

He gave her a tight smile. “So she can speak,” his baritone voice ringed out. “Go ahead, help her.”

Arms behind her grasped at her slick wet shoulders and hauled her to her feet. She was slowly beginning to get a grasp of herself. Her powers slowly seeping itself back into the usual cracks of herself. She could  _ feel _ the people around her. Feel their minds, feel the very being of them.

Roses and wet grass hit her nose. 

She struggled in his grip, but it was useless anyway. She’d been dead for too long to truly get a grip on her muscles and bones. Sirius was as good as a newborn baby against a mountain lion. 

“Keep quiet and we can get you out of here,” Tamlin breathed in her ear, too quietly for anyone else to catch but her as he wrapped a cloak around her with one arm and another keeping her steady.

She looked at him with lowered brows, but he didn’t return her gaze, instead, focusing on the king in front of them. 

“Sirius Nyx, correct?” the King of Hybern said, walking up to her and taking her face with his calloused hands. She tried to pull away, but he kept her in place, as well as Tamlin holding her from behind despite the wings.

Slowly, Sirius nodded. 

He let her go. “Jurian here said this might work. I guess I should trust his judgment a little bit more in the future.”

“I was a general,” he said, a matter of fact. “Random knowledge and strategy is what I do best.” He gave her a quick, calloused smile, his brown eyes raking his gaze over her. She could have sworn Tamlin nearly snarled at him from behind her.

“Weren’t we all,” she said quietly, her voice raw even though she hadn’t screamed as far as she knew. 

Jurian chuckled. “No, I don’t think we  _ all  _ were.”

_ At least I wasn’t stuck in a ring for 500 years _ , she said to Tamlin, mind to mind.

No response. Nothing.

And here she thought they used to be friends. Well, at least before he was forced to kill her. 

Fair enough.

The King of Hybern paced back to his throne, Jurian taking his side beside him. 

“What will we do with her?” Jurian asked. “Get some information out of her. Surely, she must know something about the Night Court and its lands.”

“I’ve been dead for a while, do any of you mind filling me in,” Sirius snorted.

The King of Hybern gave her a small, curling smile. “Your brother is waging war against us. We just added another chip to the pile.”

She could feel the blood draining from her face, like being frozen in a spotlight. Rhysand… 

“We could hover her above him,” Jurian contemplated. 

“No, I promised Tamlin his prize,” he said quickly. He stood up again, walking toward her. “Take her to your manor, Tamlin, and I can send a few of my soldiers to see to it she’s well taken care of. Someone of her own liking, and enough faebane and ash to keep her under our chains. We may be able to get something out of her while we are at it.”

“You’re keeping me as a prisoner,” Sirius confirmed. 

“Just until we can find a use for you. It’s either that or you rot away for the rest of your days.”

“You would have better luck killing me. Again.”

He smiled. “We will see. Consider it.” The King of Hybern looked at Tamlin now. “You know what to do now, High Lord of Spring.”

***

Sirius released a sigh of tension as her mother got word that Rhysand wasn’t going to meet them halfway like he was supposed to. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been working hard after all--keeping all the Illyrians in line in their camps among the mountains. Now, instead of meeting them halfway, they would have to travel the wilderness, alone, and to the war-camp. 

She had suggested winnowing, a gift she had been blessed with all her immense loads of power. Like her brother, she had plenty enough to spare and use sparingly. But to be fair, she had no idea where the camp was, so winnowing would be difficult. She actually had to see the place, imagine where it was before stepping to it.

Her mother, on the other hand, wanted her to experience the wilderness, the nature of this world that she had loved, that Sirius came to love in her 227 years of existence. This was the one true place that she could call home, no matter how cruel they were to their people. The females, in specific. She could tell the people to fuck off, but the mountains and the trees and the biting cold,  _ that  _ was  _ home _ . 

She was still upset she couldn’t participate in the Rite, atop their sacred mountain. Upset she couldn’t have tattoos like her brothers, like Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian, but maybe she could make a mark somewhere else. She  _ would  _ make herself into something. Something more than a name like Rhysand’s Sister or his shadow. It felt like… destiny almost. Like she knew there was something else out there for her. Something bigger than herself. 

It was nearly a moment of time before Rhysand would become the next High Lord of the Night Court. Technically, they should be in competition, but there was no chance of Sirius taking the throne. Only separated by 30 years of age or so, Rhysand was always the better fit. Plus, who would the Court of Nightmares take orders from? Surely not a half-bastard  _ female _ . It was already bad enough her brother was a bastard too. The people of the Night Court would never take her seriously enough. No, she could leave the ruling to Rhysand. It’s not that she didn’t want to, but he always seemed to have a finer edge to things while hers was more calloused. Rougher about things. Another way to put it would be that Rhysand is just like their mother, while she was more like their father, even if both of them despised the male. Aspects of them both. Nothing could change that Sirius and Rhysand were the dynamic duos, even if Cassian suggested otherwise (he always loved claiming that he, Rhysand, and Azriel were, even if it wasn’t a dynamic  _ two  _ but rather  _ three _ ). 

They were family, by blood and bond.

“Siri, keep on moving now, we cannot just stand here and watch the snow melt,” her mother said, breezing past her. “We have to get there before nightfall, otherwise your father is going to throw a fit. Or Rhys for that matter.”

“I told you we could winnow there,” Sirius replied, picking up her pace and leaving the spot where she looked over a cliff with monstrous trees looking like meer snow-covered flecks in the distance. Even with her superior eyesight, it was hard to make out from the height, the snow barely covering the severe drop of hard stone made of flecked white and black and grey stone. “And if something happens we both know I can just communicate with Rhys. We are both daemati if you remember.”

“Oh I remember,” her mother grumbled beside her, struggling to get through the snow and having to hike her dress up to get her boots up and over a rather thick patch. “You both remind me every time we are at the diner table and rather than talking out loud you just stare and start giggling.”

“It’s not my fault Cassian is a dumb brute and can’t use his words like a big boy. It leaves Rhys and I at a disadvantage.”

“And leave poor Az to fend for himself,” her mother added.

Sirius shrugged her shoulders and ignored the comment, huffing in the cold air. A puff of air was the only response she got. “Why not fly? If you refuse to let me use my magic.”

“Builds your stamina.”

“My stamina is built, Mother,” Sirius said, rolling her eyes slightly. Not in a mean way but rather in a more teasing manner. “The boys and you have trained me well enough. I can hold my own if it comes down to it and you know it. Plus, flying also gets the heart pumping too.”

“We need to follow the river. It’ll lead us directly to the nearest camp, and therefore, a better spot to stay rather than out here.”

Meaning that she wanted Sirius to stick it out and shut up about it. Her decision was final. She would fly later tonight, even if it meant sneaking out like what Rhysand did when he was younger. Her poor, lovely mother with two, fiery, nearly 250-year-old children.

To be fair Rhysand was older  _ and  _ more of a menace than she was. 

Sirius shouldered her pack and kept moving. 

The worst thing about the cold wasn’t the wet snow or the cold bite of the air, it was the absence of things. No flowers grew during this time of the year. The sky always seemed dimmer than usual, only lifting when you flew above them to clear blue and lovely winds. The air always seemed… less. Just frigid air being sucked in and taking out its own warmth from your body. But despite that, there were always things to savor. Things to look forward to. The first falling of leaves in the autumn, the trees gaining them back in the spring. The landscape when it was covered in the snow seemed like it was something out of a dream. The wind, whipping and dangerous as it was, called to her soul and blood with a magic that she had never seen anywhere else. 

It’s hard to explain, Sirius decided, to stand atop of a mountain with nothing but herself in the wind and her fighting leathers on. Peaceful. Dangerous. A silver lining she could never find anywhere else in the world except maybe one other, the Rainbow of Velaris. The snow wilting past her, covering the landscape with a frozen death. She was a pinnacle of warmth from the snow. A statue of patience before she would swan dive off the side of the mountains, open her wings, and soar.

That was the Illyrian Mountains. 

She wished there was a proper way to capture it. Perhaps through a painting, but there was no way she could ever be able to get it right. She didn’t have a painter’s heart.

No, she rather expressed herself by singing quiet songs during the night, belting shanties at the bar with her brothers, or whenever she has to do a household chore. To cheer up her family, to lament a sorrow. That’s who she was.

Her mother stopped ahead of her, looking into the wind. The wind shifted, instead of at their backs moving to in their face.

“What is it?” Sirius asked, walking up and stopping next to her.

She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “It just smells like… wrong. Do you smell it too?”

Sirius, despite her mother’s orders, cast out a net of awareness around them, searching and scanning for nearby minds. She inhaled, trying to catch a scent in the wind. There was… something. Like spring, almost. But it was the dead of winter. It was like catching a whiff of lilacs in the middle of a hot desert. A dream. 

That’s when it hit her like a blow to the head. She could feel the pulsing minds of four people. That’s when she knew they’d been sold out, that they weren’t here to be friendly, but were here to hunt them. 

“Mother we need to fly,” she said quietly. Sirius palmed her Illyrian blades, waiting as she could feel them approach.“We need to get out of here.”

“Who is it?” she asked, pulling a dagger from her dress. 

“High Lord of Spring. His sons too I think. I can get in their heads, should I kill them?” 

Her mother shook her head. “You can’t do that Sirius. Not without causing a lot of trouble afterward. Even in self-defense.”

“So we fly?” Sirius said. 

“They’ll spot us.” Her mother grabbed her arm. “We need to follow that river if we have any chance of finding the camp.”

“I can get Rhys and we can deal with this Mother. Let me do that.”

“No, we don’t have enough time.”

Out of time. Out of options.

_ Fuck _ .

“We can’t just wait for them to kill us,” Sirius urged her. “I can winnow us back to Velaris, tell Rhys that we will meet him another time. Go to the Court of Nightmares where they wouldn’t dare challenge us.”

Her mother took her hand, looking around, nearly cursing at herself. “Just get us somewhere.”

Before Sirius could visualize a place to go, an arrow came from somewhere within the treeline and pierced her mother’s leg. She screamed out, collapsing into the snow, staining it a bright red from the fallen blood. 

Sirius fell with her, grasping at her frantic mother, trying to get her to look at her. 

But instead of allowing her to help her, she pushed Sirius away. “Get out of here! Run Siri!” 

Sirius got up and backed away a step, eyes scanning her wounded mother, and turned back to face the treeline. She wouldn’t leave her mother to die here. 

“SIRIUS GO!”

Her blades didn’t shake in her hands as she tucked in her wings and scanned the trees. She could feel their minds pressing in around her, closing in. Even if she wanted to, they were too quick, winnowing around them before she could even register where they were, she wouldn’t be able to fly out. 

And more importantly, she wasn’t about to sacrifice her mother to these shape-shifting beasts. 

There was no point in trying to get in their heads. They had all had extensive training against people like her and Rhysand. It was hard to get into their heads. Tamlin, being the youngest, didn’t stand much of a chance, but the High Lord and his eldest son would be more of a problem.

“Drop your weapons, girl,” a male, gruff voice called out from the treeline. “Don’t make it more difficult than you need it to be.”

The High Lord’s eldest son indeed. Athelis, the manipulator and leader of their wretched pack.

“Go to hell Athelis!” she shouted back. She could see them now, slowly coming out of the trees.

“I told you we should have covered our scents better,” Royce, the second eldest, holding a dagger to Tamlin’s neck as he led him into the circle of trees. She locked eyes with him, a friend of Rhysands and one of her own. 

He  _ knew _ .

The High Lord of the Spring Court came from their left side, holding a sword in one hand and a scar flecked fist swinging on his other side. All of them blond. All of them with strong brows and high cheekbones, a colder look in their eyes compared to Tamlin.

Immortal and ageless. Perfectly lethal.

“Where’s Rhysand?” he asked them, twisting the sword in his hand, almost like he was nervous. But unlike his fidgeting hands, his voice was steady and monotone. Almost bored.

If only she had enough years under her belt to really grow into her power. They wouldn’t be standing if she had. It grew every day, a little drip every hour. 

“Sleeping with your mother,” she replied with a gruff smile. She searched the rest of them. 

Just four of them… Sirius liked her odds.

Athelis drew another arrow and leveled it with her. 

“Sirius,” her mother whispered. “Go.”

_ No. I am not leaving you _ , she said back to her. Mind to mind, so these  _ pigs  _ couldn’t hear them.

_ You are no use dead.  _

_ Neither are you mother.  _

“He was supposed to be here today,” Royce said with a sneer.

Sirius flashed her teeth back, her wings flaring slightly in anger. “Well, isn’t it just dandy that plans change.”

The High Lord almost seemed… disappointed at that. Tamlin, looking more relieved than anything, even if all the blood had seemed to leave his face.

“It is no matter. Kill them anyways,” the High Lord said. “We can send their heads down the river for the camp to find.”

Sirius held her blades fast. She wouldn’t go down without swinging. She fully intended to walk out of the field. She fully intended to spill their blood that day, getting her mother out alive.

It didn’t exactly end up that way.

***

“Seems like you fixed up the place, Tamlin. Looks less gloomy unlike how your father had it,” Sirius admired, being escorted into Rosehall Manor at sword and spear point. 

She wondered if this would be the last time she would see sunlight before being locked away forever.

He didn’t reply, just stared straight ahead and led the group down the wall. Her arms were locked behind her, wings tied together and only a cloak covering her. Even though she was uncomfortable being so bare in front of the guards and Tamlin himself, she tried to convince herself it was the finest of armor.

“You really look the part,” she kept going. “Look at you! Dressed up like you are. Roses and all. Keep up with the garden? That’s a stupid question. Of course you have.”

They led her down a hall and into the dining room, past it, and down a set of stairs. The door to the stairs was hidden behind a rather intricate painting of a vase of flowers. She glimpsed a confused looking red haired male near the base of the stairs, a whirling golden eye circling itself as if trying to capture who she was. She gave him a half grimace. A nasty scar ran down his cheek and down to his chin.

Lucien, the son of Beron if she remembered correctly. 

Tamlin dismissed the guards at the top of the stairs, then led her down further and further, not checking to see if she followed.

It was dark, only lit by torches that lit itself as they continued down. It appeared as though it hadn’t been used in ages, dust and cobwebs clinging to the walls like a lifeline.

“Are you going to answer me at all?” she asked him. Silence, more of it. Sirius sighed. “Can we please talk about how I’m, oh I don’t know, alive right now?”

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, he opened a heavy looking wooden door with thick iron across it. The padded lock clicked open as he placed his palm on it.

“No,” he finally said. He glanced a look back at her. “There are clothes inside. You are to be kept here for now.”

She walked through the doors after he opened it, allowing her in. He unlocked her shackles, untying her wings. She unfurled them, slowly growing used to the weight of them again, spasming unintentionally after being bound for what seemed like hours. 

After being Made again, they threw her in a cell, tied her wings and hands, and left her there while Tamlin and the King worked things out. Bargained.

That left her enough time to ponder what she could do in the meantime. Flee to the north, try to find her brother, or stick it through and see what Tamlin has in store for her. Too many wards and spells were up for her to winnow. Too old to break through and try, and it would take too much of her wavering power. 

So now she was here, stuck in another cell under Rosehall Manor with Tamlin as her captor. How fitting. The male to kill her is the one to have to face her everyday. He was her ward. For the time being at least.

She would find a way to get word to Rhysand or someone from the Inner Circle.

“Is Feyre really worth-”

His snarl was enough to make her pause.

“What do you even know of it?” he growled out. “You’ve been dead.”

“Yet death leaves a lot of time to watch other people live,” she said quietly. She grabbed the clothes from off the ground, a pair of black pants and a white tunic. She threw them on, tearing holes in the back to fit her wings.

Tamlin didn’t answer her. He didn’t say anything else to her. Just gave her some food laced with what she could  _ smell  _ to be faebane and left the cell, locking the door behind him.


	2. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tamlin talks to Lucien briefly, setting plans for the future and Lucien's disagreement.
> 
> Sirius paces her cell before Tamlin walks in and tells her to eat.

Lucien stopped Tamlin at the top of the stairs, a hand on his arm to physically pull him away from his intended path to clearly look at him. “Who is  _ that _ ?”

Tamlin curled his lip. “Part of my bargain. To get Feyre back.”

Lucien’s face blanched. His eye whirled as if trying to come up with some sort of come back, something to say to Tamlin to make him change his mind. “You cannot be serious? Tam, I said to give it more time. I told you I was working with the Dawn Court to see if we could-”

He sighed, pushing Lucien off him, but not without the claws that had slipped out in his anger. “They’re taking too long. Feyre has been away for too long. I can’t leave her there stranded with that  _ monster  _ in the Night Court. Who knows what he’s done to her there…”

Tamlin looked around the room, at Lucien and his three trusted guards. The chains and shackles that Sirius was kept in upon being brought here were made to suppress magic. Tamlin wouldn’t make that mistake--mistaking her to be fragile. He still had scars from that fight in the woods where his father and brothers had cornered her and her mother. He wouldn’t mistake that she wasn’t riddled with enough power to kill them all in one fell swoop. That room, that cell, was made to contain people like her. 

“We are the only people that know of her existence. Keep your mental shields up around her. She’s dangerous. We have to keep her here until she breaks. Understood?”

The guards nodded, shouldering their weapons and walking off. Tamlin, on the other hand, took a deep sigh and leaned against the dining room table. “Do not mention her to Ianthe. She’s at her temple right now, but if she hears word of her… she might very well use it to throw in Rhysand’s face to get under his skin. Security is what we need right now.”

Lucien eyes him over. “What are you going to do to her?”  
Raking a hand through his blond hair, he said to Lucien, “What I have to. I’ll do what I have to--to make sure that Feyre is brought home safe.”

“I don’t,” Lucien started, throwing up his hands and beginning to walk away. “I don’t want any part in this. None. I’m not some kind of  _ torturer _ .”

“I’m not asking you to do anything, Lucien,” Tamlin grit out in response. “I’m just asking you to keep her a secret for now, until the King decides he needs her more than he’s willing to risk her rotting in a cell.”

Lucien didn’t stick around long enough to hear any more of what Tamlin had to say. Better to hear nothing at all than know everything about her. If he knew too much, who knew what the cost would be.

Tamlin didn’t like this… unsteady alliance, but it was the only alliance that would be willing to trust him. It was the only way that he would be able to get Feyre back with a guarantee. It was the only thing that mattered to him. 

He wouldn’t abandon her again. Like when they had just met. When he sent her away to protect her, back to her people where he knew she wouldn’t be hated or hunted. But then she came back for him. This time, he was willing to do the same. He was willing to risk any battle for her for what she did for him. She  _ died  _ for him, and in the night he sometimes still woke up with the sound of her neck snapping, like a tree branch in the forest.

When she left, he ripped through her old room, enraged and struggling to grasp what had happened to her. She had just been  _ taken _ . Taken by that monster of night during one of the brightest days of spring. It wasn’t right. None of it. 

And when that note had come through… He knew Feyre didn’t know how to read or write. It just had to be Rhysand toying with him. Toying with his heart, with his feelings, like he always loved to when Amarantha reigned. 

Tamlin wasn’t the best person. He had done wrongs. He had done many things that he wished he could have fixed, but that was in the past. He was trying to be better after so many years of abuse and trauma. After his father beat him into his place and Amarantha just showed him new ways to pick at his tortured soul.

He wasn’t perfect, but the past was the past and he was trying to move forward. Past himself and his habits.

And Sirius…

She’s another cruel reminder of the things he had to do. Of the things he had done. Another way the King might extend control over him. It was his fault she was alive again, and it would be his downfall if something happened to her too.

He shouldn’t care, but he knew her long ago. He could see her sometimes, in his dreams when she was dead. Screaming and crying to let them go. To let her mother go so that she might have a chance. Then what happened afterward, cutting off their wings and head, all because his father was afraid of what Rhysand and his sister might become. Of the power they shared. 

If only his father could see them now. One, High Lord, the most powerful of them all even though most were not able to admit it, and Sirius, back from the dead thanks to the power of the cauldron, with perhaps hidden knowledge about what’s happened in the world if she knew about Feyre.

He will have to send out word to people in his court tomorrow, to get people out of here. Tell them to flee for the east and for those who stay it will be their risk. The King of Hybern promised to keep his lands and people untouched, but he doubted that his word was enough. Not when his soldiers could go behind his back, raping and pillage as they please, and not do a damn thing about it. 

So he would warn his people, tomorrow. After he had some rest and made sure Sirius was secure in the dungeon below the manor. He would ward it tonight. Set spells around it to make sure no one got in or out.

Not unless he wanted them to.

Tamlin got up from the table, slowly easing his anger into a smaller piece of itself, locked away. His claws slowly slid back in place. He took another deep breath, and they were gone entirely. 

For now, he paced back up to his study where he would start his work.

***

Sirius didn’t eat her food. There was no way she was getting any faebane into her system, even when the food she was given, an apple with a platter of lamb, smelled so good. She knew it would taste just as good too… if only it wouldn’t damn her powers to hell and make her feel like shit.

All she had was time. 

Or at least until they decided that she was better off dead anyways. Death didn’t exactly scare her anymore. It was peaceful. Quiet. Washed ashore. Plus, nobody knew she was alive anyways. She wouldn’t be causing anymore hurt if she left into the dark again. 

Not that she would just yet. Although, who knows if that lamb kept smelling so good. 

All she wanted to do was sink her canines into it, rip the lamb apart. Tear into the apple, soak it in caramel and nuts. Mother knew how hungry she was, not to mention that she had forgotten how good all the scents and smells melded together, creating such a perfect, divine… 

She had to get her mind off the food. It was going to drive her mad. Her mind flashed back to the look on Jurian’s face when she first emerged. That gleam in his eyes.

No, he did not come back normal. But then again, she didn’t spend ages looking through a ring, so perhaps she missed the insanity part, although a lurking, hidden piece locked away in the back of her mind, almost urged her to.

_ Let them all rot. Let them all burn _ .

Yeah, Sirius was not listening to that voice. Not unless Tamlin decided to try and kill her brother like he intended to the day she died. Then, she might let them all rot. For him, for the Inner Circle, she would outlast them all. She would make their enemies pay dearly for even  _ thinking  _ about crossing them.

Tamlin was on his way to that list.

Sirius knew about Feyre and her brother. Before she emerged into the word, she was watching over them, watching as Feyre grew… happy. Started to change. Started to fight for herself and the family she had grown to love.

It was a relief seeing her brother so happy, even if she didn’t know they were mates. Just the look in his eyes, on his face. She was slowly washing away the stains of years he spent alone and unhappy. It’s what mother always wanted for him, and for her too.

She was extremely pleased when Feyre retrieved her mother’s ring, although just a tad pissed at Rhysand for sending her in there so untrained and nearly powerless.

Sirius was almost about to leave them, to fade into that tide. When she realized he didn’t need her watching over them. When she realized Cassian and Azriel had moved on too. When she found Mor beginning to slowly accept herself, despite everything that has happened in her life too. What she saw… all she ever wanted was for Mor to be happy with herself. Her sweet, dear cousin.

Amren she didn’t really know about. She intrigued her, but at the same time frightened her. Now, they were almost one and the same. Two souls trapped in bodies that they didn’t know how to work anymore.

If they ever met it would just be a battle of sly words and riddles.

Sirius leaned against the walls of her cell as that heavy oak and iron door opened up. She didn’t want to fight them, not when she was at such a disadvantage. Not when there were so many people here. She didn’t need to kill more people than was necessary, especially if they were innocent.

Tamlin peeked his head in, and then at the untouched food. But she was clothed, which they were both thankful for. 

“You need to eat,” he said quietly. 

She gave him a tight smile. “I’ll work on it later. I’m thinking of all the ways I could kill you right now.” He stared at her. “For mostly not answering my questions and threatening everything I love. Not that I matter. I’m just a pawn in your plans aren’t you.”

“Be fortunate that’s all you are,” he said. “There are much worse places to be.”

“Like the Night Court, you mean?” Sirius asked, raising a brow. “Please nothing has happened to Feyre.”

Tamlin kept his sneer contained to his mind, but it didn’t stop the claws that slid out of place. Sirius noted it. “You’re just covering for him. Rhysand.”

Sirius scoffed, but kept herself against the wall. “I don’t blame you for thinking that, with all the fronts he’s put up against outsiders. I would like to think you’d know better than that though.” She paused, looking at herself and back at him. “But in regards to the situation you’ve dragged me into, I suppose you don’t.”

“You’re insulting me.” Less of a question than it was as a statement.

“More or less. Take it how you want though.” She said quietly, “I didn’t ask to be dragged back into your mess. I was hoping to leave this world behind. But it just keeps coming to bite me in the ass, now isn’t it?”

“Hybern soldiers are coming in a week.”

The information dropped like a stone in a still lake, cascading ripples towards her. That means she would be interrogated. That means she had no chance of escape while they were present. 

Sirius crossed her arms. “Is it worth it? Having the enemy invade your lands and control over you. You’re a  _ High Lord _ , Tamlin.”

“I don’t have much of a choice now do I,” Tamlin growled. “And stop talking down to me like I’m a child. I know what I’m doing. This is my home, my court.”

She looked away. “Whatever. Just…don’t you think it’s wrong and all? This is  _ Hybern _ . I may not have been old enough to fight but I’ve seen what happened afterwards. We all have, Tamlin.”

“I’m doing what I can,” he said again, shoving the plate towards her again. “If this plate isn’t finished by the time I’m back I’ll make one of the guards shove it down your throat.”

Then he left and slammed the door behind him. 

She flinched at the noise, looking carefully over the plate.

Sirius picked up the plate and stirred the food carefully, mixing it. Fuck, it smelled better up close, despite the threat of faebane lurking over her head. But she was hungry, and she would rather not be forced. Even if her instincts screamed at her not to do it, to tempt Tamlin into making one of his men  _ make her _ . How delighted she would be when she ripped into that poor man’s mind for even touching her. 

But then again, it’s just a soldier under orders. She wouldn’t hold it against them. Afterall, Tamlin, with the few guards he did have watching over her, probably painted her out as a villain. They probably already feared her. By proving what they already suspected would not help her case. 

So, Sirius would bide her time, as she nibbled on a piece of the apple, and tried her best to disintegrate or mist what she didn’t.

***

“Don’t be an ass,” Mor chided, smacking Cassian on the arm while he howled in laughter. 

He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs as he tried to wheeze out an answer to no avail. “You-” another bout of laughter that left him airless. “You should have-have seen the look on the bastards face!” he said, pointing at the poor, stoned face Azriel sitting across from him.

Azriel cast his glance to Mor, his hazel eyes dancing as a small smile cracked his lips. “I didn’t know what to do so I punched the guy before I realized what I’d done.”

Mor shook her head, giving Cassian a rather hard pat on the back. “Mother above you two are children.”

Cassian stuck his tongue out at her, and she did the same to him. “You aren’t any better than us hooligans, you know.”

“No, but at least I know a thing or two on social skills and clothing choice.”

Cassian scoffed. “Please, do you know how many ladies fall head over heels for me.”

Azriel stifled a laugh. “Is it because you tripped them over your bawdy poetry brother.”

Cassian whirled and pointed his finger back at him. “For the record, Sirius wrote more crude shit than either of us care to admit. And second, when I really put my mind to it, it’s not bad poetry. It’s elegant and lovely.”

Mor laughed again. “Your poetry is about as lovely as a horse’s ass!”

Cassian deadpanned to her. “Don’t mock me!”

She raised her hands up in defeat. “It wasn’t mockery so much as it was-”

The door swung open with a bang as Rhysand stepped through the threshold, pale and clammy. The night was cold, and the stars hovered nearby from just outside the door.

The others froze, silent. Waiting. 

Rhysand didn’t let out a sound, not as he slung off his cloak that had the bottom stained with blood and went up the stairs. 

“Rhys?” Cassian called, getting up and chasing after him, the smile he had painted on beforehand vanishing without a second thought. “Rhys what’s going on?”

He was crying, Cassian realized. Crying… he never saw Rhys cry.

“They’re dead,” he sobbed.

Mor ran up next to them, holding onto Rhys’ shoulder, pushing him into her arms. He clung to her like it was the end of the world. He didn’t stop clinging to her as his shoulders shook as he sobbed.

“Who’s dead? Who’s dead love?” she whispered.

Rhysand shook his head in his shoulder, whispering back something incoherent. He dragged her down to the floor with him, as if the strength in his legs gave out. As if it was all too much.

Cassian gulped and turned to Azriel. “Have you heard any word on this?”

Azriel shook his head. “If something happened it would have happened now. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Rhysand tried his best to stop crying, to calm down enough to get a word out of his mouth, but everything  _ hurt _ . His whole chest seemed to cave in and spill out. He would rather be dying on the ground than feeling this pain. 

“My father’s coming,” he said, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears from his face. Mor pushed his hands aside and wiped them for him as he continued to cry. “He-we just found out. I was supposed to meet them. I should have…”

His face crumpled again and Mor shoved him back in her arms, shushing him quietly, telling him that it was okay. Everything would be okay. There’s nothing that they couldn’t face together.

“Meet them?” Cassian asked. His brow scrunched in concentration. Who was Rhys supposed to meet?

“Sirius…” Azriel whispered. His only confirmation was Rhys cracked sobbing on the floor as his grip tightened on Mor. She felt like she was almost being crushed, but for him he would take it.

The room spun as Cassian also sat down on the floor beside them. Azriel’s shadows deepened around him. 

“Who?”

That was all Azriel had to ask. His voice is deadly quiet. 

Cassian shushed him. Now wasn’t the time, not as Mor looked back at him, eyes red.

Sirius, his sister, was dead.

And his mother…

Rhysand tried to push all of it away.


	3. The Fox and the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> interrogation and a little visit from mr. fox boy.

Sirius’ head snapped back, blood dripping from her mouth and nose as she spit it onto the dirty, stone floor. She’d been in here for a week or so, and Hybern finally decided to send someone to “look after her.” That included all the delightful things the soldiers of Hybern thought of. It’s not like Tamlin could stop them, and it’s not like he would. He wouldn’t threaten their fragile alliance.

The male grabbed her by the hair, dragging her gaze up to him. Fuck that hurt. Not as bad as some of the previous interrogations, but it still hurt nonetheless. It was during these times that she slid into another place of herself. The one that always projected ruthless insanity. Trying to laugh and slide jokes in despite the pain. It always caught them off guard at first, until they grew used to it. Then it became a little more difficult than that.

It was all she could do to keep up sometimes, and being drugged with faebane didn’t help her case either. It made her feel like a doe in the woods, having only her main senses to rely on. She tried not to eat too much of the food, but even that was beginning to strain on her. With her magic dimmed nearly to the gutters, it was all she could do to hold onto that last bit of it. It was enough to sense when another mind was around, perhaps even scan the base emotions or thoughts, but nothing so much in detail or clarity. The shadows in the corner began to grow.

She would outlast them. Sirius would make herself. 

Before the faebane completely kicked over she did find out one thing. Wards. This place, Rosehall Manor, was filled with wards and spells to keep people in and out. She found out, to no surprise, how Tamlin soon warded the place to keep specifically her in. Perhaps not even a few hours after their last conversation. 

Busy male indeed.

And here she thought he didn’t care about little ol’ her.

“Tell me again how you don’t know what the Night Court’s territory looks like,” the guard growled out. He didn't even give the courtesy of a name so she could curse him out. So for now it was just tall, brown haired, asshole. His eyes were a dark brown, like the mud she would find in a sparring ring in the Illyrian war-camps.

“Three hundred years is a long time. I don’t remember everything exactly,” Sirius said.

He sneered at her. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay.”

He hit her again, causing the blood to spray onto the ground. She shouted in pain as he kneed her in the chest. The air in her lungs whoosed out, leaving her breathless and wheezing. Every intake of air felt like fire and blood in her lungs.

“I can take you to the Court of Nightmares. I can take you to the coast and the mountains, but that’s about as far as my memory serves me,” she breathed out. And then there was Velaris too, with the Sidra flowing out to the ocean. Ports and boats and a city of life. Truths and lies; lies and truth. It was finding that balance to keep Hybern at bay.

The asshole let her go, shoving her back into the wall she was shackled to, her arms limply suspended above her head. Her head snapped back, hitting the solid rock wall, throbbing more harshly than before. If one thing the faebane did was give her a sick headache. She kept her wings tucked in tight, not letting the male get the chance to rake his hands on them. If he did, she would very well find a way to kill him. And if he planned to kill her, she would find a way to bring him down with her.

“You are a damn lucky girl that the King needs you…” he muttered. The first bit of information she had heard from him. She was  _ needed _ . By the enemy, at that. But for what?

“And why would he need, as you say, a girl?” she asked, hanging her head as she gasped for air, blood from her nose dripping onto the floor in a small pool. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like after all this. Matted black hair? Dark bruises under her eyes, deepening that cool violet that she and her brother shared, although his more bordered on a deep blue. 

The brown haired asshole spit on the floor next to her, not saying another word. Instead, his dead eyes peered into her’s, suspending a look of pure, unfiltered rage, one that she only saw in a male who thinks that he will always win, even if she won a small battle. She didn’t let a smile show, not when her teeth sang in a symphony of blood and ache.

He snapped his fingers, the chains on her wrists unlocking at lightning speed. She didn’t have time to prepare for it as she fell to the floor, arms barely able to swing under her to catch herself. It didn’t stop the male from kicking her, just for good riddance, while she was down, and exiting the cell. 

Sirius finally had the company to grimace, holding an arm to herself and flipping onto her back. Just by herself. It was perfect. It was all she needed in this damn place. 

She wondered if Azriel’s spies would try to get into this place. How perfectly unfortunate. They would have proper reason to wage war against the Spring Court then. She remembered her brother debating it, on that shore somewhere in the deep, twisting sea, where she sat there and watched over them as a spirit. Where she could meditate and see them, where she could think and sing. 

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time she sang to them, her family. Probably at some shady bar at the Camps, where she sat next to Rhysand or Cassian, Azriel smiled faintly with them, softly adding to the lyrics while the other two belted them at the top of their lungs. Or maybe with Morrigan, out shopping close to the Rainbow of Velaris, when she found a particularly stunning dress with her. She could almost hear them now next to her, telling her to get up. To fight. To do something other than waste away. To not let the hard days win.

But she couldn’t, for all of their sakes. 

She couldn’t get up, she couldn’t risk exposure and making them start an all out war for her. Not with the threat of Hybern, and certainly not risking the ties with the Spring Court. Two fronts at once would be too much. Feyre was also another possibility to remember.

Humming silence was all that was left in her head, besides shadows and ancient memories from another lifetime. 

It must be winter by now.

*

It must have been late at night when she heard her door creak open. She didn’t remember when she fell asleep on the floor, an arm under her acting as a pillow for her head, but she could guess a few hours after food had appeared in her cell. Of course she barely touched it with the threat of more faebane and what little magic she had. Not enough to mist the rest of the food like she had been used to doing. Sirius had only moments to hear the scuffle of boots that slid on the floor, despite being quiet, before she opened an eye.

The red-head… Lucien. His gold eye whirled, and the other amber one looked at her, slightly surprised. The door to her cell was ajar, but that wasn’t what concerned her.

He held in his hands a bucket of water and a rag.

“Did Tamlin send you?” she asked, her question hoarse and hanging in the air. The air around her stifled anything she wanted to say.

Lucien shook his head. “I came myself, to see what they were doing to you.” He paused, as if debating his next words. His accent was smooth, quiet. Like he didn’t want anyone to know he was here. “I couldn’t sit by.”

“You’re disobeying orders,” Sirius said back, a small, teasing smile caressing her lips. A game. It was a game of cards. She had to be careful which one she would pull from the draw deck, and what to discard to him.

“Tamlin keyed it to allow anyone who saw you down here. I’m not disobeying. He has allowed us down here.”

“Sorry, stepping around.”

“Do you want this or not?”

Sirius eyed the bucket and rag carefully. “Thank you.” Her voice was low, sorrowful, something Lucien didn’t expect. He lowered it next to her as she sat up and took the rag from his hands. She dipped it in the water, carefully washing her face, her arms.

He might have thought she was beautiful, in a way one finds a glittering gem in a hidden rock, locked away down here, had it not been for the awful injuries scattering her body. A deep tan, common for the Night Court. Wings with only light traces of scars. 

Lucien took a careful seat next to her. “I’ll see what I can do to get you out,” he said, testing the waters. “Tamlin is a hard male to reason with, but-”

“If you call locking a scarred woman in a house reasonable,” she bit out. 

He glanced away. “So you know.”

“I’ve seen it in all your minds, before the faebane of course. Now I can barely even tell what you’re feeling.”

Lucien blinked, looking back at her. “That easily.”

Sirius shrugged. “Do you even know who I am?”  
“No,” he answered honestly. “And I don’t want to know. Not when it could be used against you.”

A small, innocent looking smile. “That’s probably for the best. I know of you though. Lucien Vanserra?”

“I don’t use my family name,” he replied, cold and drawn off.

She nodded, wiping away another smudge of dirt. “That’s fair.”

“I don’t see what you know if it.”

“When you’ve been dead for as long as I have, you learn to watch things in the world and see what happens. Observe.”

Lucien nodded. “What was it like? Dead?”

Sirius chuckled, digging the rag back into the water, muddied with blood already. It was like when you butchered a deer, wiping the blood and dirt off the animal to preserve it and keep it fresh. The only difference there was is that instead of just water, vinegar was added to the mix to help get the blood clots out from the meat. Was that all she was? A piece of meat to be used in the war, along with the thousands of other bodies.

“Curious?”

“Mildly,” he said, shrugging.

She put the rag back in the water, no longer crystal clear. He could magic it away. 

If he wanted to.

“Come back another time, and I may tell you.”

“You’re dangerous. Why would I do that?” he questioned her. He knew she was locked up for some reason, whether to keep Hybern safe or to keep her from striking against Hybern. A death wish either way.

“Because, curiosity is what we thrive on.”  _ We _ , he pondered. A fox versus a… what was she? “Suit yourself either way, but like you said, I don’t want information used against me.”

Lucien got up from the floor, dusting off his cream colored pants. He looked tired almost. Tired of this war before it has even truly begun. Sirius knew it was only a matter of time before the water boiled and began spilling over.

“I will consider bringing some food for you next time. I can’t properly heal you, not without them noticing.”

Sirius looked away. He wasn’t sure where. Not the walls but something more from that far off look. “Thank you anyways, even if it is the last time we meet.” She looked up at him. “I owe you already.”

He didn’t like that. That she owed him something. Honorable, but what could a dead female offer him anyways. But it was always handy to have an enemy's hand wrapped in yours. “Another time then, when the guards fall asleep again.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “How irresponsible of them little fox.”

***

Mor was drinking a glass of chamomile tea by the sunlit windows when Sirius walked in the door to their house, knocking her boots against the threshold to get the snow off of them. 

This was one of their retreats, a get-away from their family in the mountains. 

“There you are,” she said, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her. One last puff of clouded air filled the room before it replaced her lungs with the burning fire in the corner of the house and whatever magic they had floating around. Already, Sirius was stripping off the layers of her clothes, starting with a scarf. “I’ve been all over, flying, and yet here you are perched in a chair cooped up in the house.”

“It’s too cold,” Mor replied. “Only you bats like it when it’s this cold.”

Sirius chuckled in delight. “I would think after spending all your time in a mountain you would want to get out more.”

Mor stuck her tongue out at her, and she stuck one back at her. “I am quite content by the window.”

“You’re worse than a cat,” Sirius said back. “A lazy cat sunning itself.”

Mor shrugged. “What can I say?” Her arms flung out, although one still carefully held the tea. Her red sweater almost made Sirius sweat more. How can she wear that in such a hot house? “I do like to be adored over.”

Sirius plopped down on the couch next to Mor’s perch. Her wings sprawled out over the edges, resting. Now, without all the layers, she only had on a tight gray long sleeved shirt, one that they would wear under armor to conserve heat, and tight leather pants. 

Mor tsked her. “Now, what would your brother say about those wings touching the ground.”

“He can kiss my royal ass.”

Mor chuckled, setting down her cup of tea. The steam flitted in the air. Sirius watched it all the way until it disappeared.

“How was it? The flying?”

“Wonderful, as usual.”

“Any new song ideas?” Mor asked her.

A small smile caught her lips at the question. “Just a few lyrics, maybe. I don’t know where they might fit in. Definitely not to be said out loud.”

“So tell me and I’ll tell Cassian.”

A devilish grin dashed across Mor’s face as Sirius told her, and it only left them in a howling fit of laughter.

“You did not make that up,” Mor cackled.

Sirius lifted her hands in a shrug, laughing. “I am Rhysand’s sister.”

“Fucking Hell you are.” Mor finished her cup of tea and went off to a cupboard. “Wine?”

Sirius waved her off. “No thanks. Speaking of the boys, where are those bastards at? Usually they would be butting in by now.”

“Out having their annual snowball battles.”

“No,” Sirius swore, sitting up abruptly. “This late?”

Mor nodded, a slight pout on her face, and poured herself a glass of deep, red wine. “Yep, they are still out there.”

“You haven’t tried calling them in?” Sirius asked, getting up and walking out to the window. There, she could see the flashes of shadows and little mounds of snow used as a base. Wings tied. No magic. Just pure snow.

A little black haired Azriel peaked up from his mound, almost hit by a snowball hurtling from the right, before he ducked down again. The shadows wrapped around himself were the only thing Sirius could spy from even this angle. To the others on the ground she was sure they wouldn’t be able to tell at all the dancing black outlines of his power.

Rhysand, the cocky male he was, launched another snowball in Azriel’s direction, his hair tied back just at the top. His hair was long enough to braid now, something she did earlier this morning, begrudgingly. She knew he liked it though, otherwise it wouldn’t be braided at all right now.

Mor sidled up next to her. “So, what are you planning?”

“I’m not planning anything,” Sirius replied, gnawing on the pad of her thumb.

“I know that look. You are most certainly planning  _ something _ .”

Sirius grinned in delight, her head tilting slightly as if she could see an advantage. “Oh, just maybe an airstrike. But that’s it.”

Her cousin chuckled, patting her on the back. “Do it girly. I’ll watch from my nest up here.”

Sirius dashed back to the door, throwing back on her clothes to shield her from the outside cold. Then, ran outside to start making the biggest snowball that she would drop on their little heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's me, the author. Thanks for all the support already! This has been fantastic and I didn't think it would go so far already. Sorry for the delay, I had my wisdom teeth removed so I've been out for a little bit, but I'm feeling pretty good now. More to come soon >:D (also I haven't read acosf yet so please don't spoil me)


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